


Boom

by onlyastoryteller



Series: Permanent [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25010656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/onlyastoryteller
Summary: Something is up with Timmy, and Armie doesn’t know what to think.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Permanent [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810831
Comments: 46
Kudos: 244





	Boom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightyears_x_away](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightyears_x_away/gifts).



> This extra tag was written as part of the Fandom Activist Coalition’s attempt to help the BLM movement. I was supposed to write 500 words, but we all know that I was never going to stick to that limit.
> 
> It’s been a while since I’ve spent time with these two, and I hope you enjoy revisiting their relationship as much as I did!
> 
> 100% fiction, of course!

Armie stared into the refrigerator, a frown deepening the faint lines around his mouth. He’d been standing there for a few minutes now, and should probably close the door, but since he wasn’t really seeing what he was looking at, he’d just have to open it again in a minute. 

He shook himself with a grunt. It was ridiculous, what he was doing. Getting stuck in a spiral of thoughts that did no good and had no real destination. Armie knew better. 

Timmy wasn’t thinking of leaving. It was all in Armie’s head, remnants of insecurity borne out of his last relationship. So maybe the kid had been a little...distant recently. Maybe he’d spent more time off doing other things — things that he was keeping from Armie — but that didn’t have to mean anything. Timmy was a college student, busy with classes and activities. Timmy wasn’t leaving. 

And even if he _was_ they’d only been together four months. It wasn’t like they’d made any promises to each other. Timmy may have said that he was all in, right away...but he was young. He was allowed to change his mind, even if the thought of it made Armie sick to his stomach.

But the fact that he’d been late a lot recently, and canceled plans a few times, that didn’t mean anything. Like tonight, Timmy was late tonight...by over an hour. He’d texted a few minutes earlier with a quick apology and to say he was on his way, which had prompted Armie to open the refrigerator in the first place, to start dinner. 

Deciding to get over himself, he began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and pantry and assembling them to make dinner. 

The onions and peppers were sizzling in the sauté pan, caramelizing around the edges, and the sausages were getting nice and blistered on the tabletop grill by the time the door opened that evening. Armie had given Timmy a key pretty much immediately, wanting him to feel comfortable coming and going as he pleased. 

“Hey,” Timmy called out as he closed the door behind him and kicked off his boots. “Wow, it smells really good in here. What are we having?”

Armie glanced over at the man he was already much too in love with. His dark curls bounced around his face as he tossed his messenger bag to the floor and wrestled out of one of Armie’s sweatshirts, which was far too big on him. His green eyes were bright, and his cheeks were slightly pink, as if he’d been exerting himself or had been out in the cold...but it was a warm night, and Armie lived on the first floor. 

He pushed the thoughts aside.

“Sausages with peppers and onions,” Armie said, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he put hot dog buns into the oven to toast. 

“Oh, _yum,_ ” Timmy said. “That’s my favorite thing you make.”

Armie knew that. It was why he’d bought the ingredients, why he’d decided to make it. Knowing what Timmy liked and supplying it was a part of his everyday existence now, as natural as breathing. He turned to the stove and tossed the vegetables, then rotated the sausages. 

A pair of thin arms circled his waist and a chest pressed up against his back. He felt Timmy’s nose press into the spot between his shoulder blades and Timmy’s chest inflate as he inhaled deeply. Armie relaxed as Timmy held him close. He was an idiot for questioning anything. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Timmy murmured. “I had a thing to finish up.”

 _A thing._ Immediately, Armie tensed all over again. Timmy had been using that vague language for the past couple of weeks. 

“It’s fine,” Armie said. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Timmy pulled him away from the stove and then wiggled under his arm so he was now facing Armie. 

“You sure?” he asked. “You seem…”

His brow wrinkled, a tiny line appearing between his eyebrows, and his eyes flickered from bright to anxious. He traced his always-cold fingertips along Armie’s upper lip and down to his chin. 

“I’m sure,” Armie said. He forced a smile onto his face, because he never wanted Timmy to look at him like that, fully of worry and uncertainty. 

Armie leaned in and kissed his boyfriend. He let the sense of _rightness_ settle in his bones and calm him down. Kissing Timmy still provoked that same feeling of excitement paired with comfort that he’d felt the night they had met. As their tongues tangled, Timmy moaned softly into his mouth, and Armie tossed his spoon onto the counter and wrapped his arms around Timmy’s torso, pulling him close. He poured every ounce of his own certainty about them into the kiss, hoping Timmy could feel it too. 

When they broke apart, Timmy looked a little dazed. 

“Wow,” he said. Then he grinned. “How long until we eat? So that we can clean up and I can climb all over you, which I’ve been dying to do all day?”

“A couple of minutes,” Armie said, feeling slightly better. 

Timmy pressed a final kiss on his cheek and then moved away, winding around the apartment. He grabbed his bag and entered the bedroom, came back out and tidied the living room, put on some music and bounced around on his toes. 

Armie couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he watched. The way Timmy had simply...settled into his life over the past four months was like something he’d barely dared to dream. The kid was just the right fit for him, bringing lightness and spirit where he desperately needed it. He’d also made all of Armie’s friends adore him, becoming a fixture at the tattoo studio on weekends. Armie only hoped that he provided something that complemented Timmy in the same way Timmy complemented him.

Everything was _fine_. 

During dinner, Armie did his best not to ask what Timmy had been up to, instead letting him jump from topic to topic like a caffeinated rabbit. 

“Have you ever been to the Dell Diamond?” he asked at one point, between mouthfuls of sausage. “Baseball is about to start, and, you know I don’t really care about baseball, but going to an actual game can be a lot of fun. We used to go when I was growing up, and I went with friends in high school, too. They have...they have fireworks every night.”

“I’ve been,” Armie said. “But not in a long time. And i like fireworks.”

Timmy’s face lit up. “You’d want to go? When I used to go in high school I always thought it would be a fun place to take...to take someone.” He flushed bright red, and Armie laughed. 

“You want to take me?” Armie said, reaching out to brush a thumb across the pink cheeks. “If so...yes, I accept. Take me out to the ball game.”

Timmy smacked Armie’s shoulder. “Should I buy you peanuts and cracker jacks?”

“Yeah. And one of those little pennants that I can wave in the air.” Timmy giggled, and the sound warmed Armie’s heart. If Timmy wanted to make plans for the future, maybe things really were fine. 

After dinner, Armie flopped onto the sofa and switched on the television, and Timmy flopped on top of him. He settled his palms on Timmy’s lower back and nosed at Timmy’s hair as the kid flipped the channels until he found the end of an old comedy from the 80s. 

Sometimes, their evening time was more active, other times they sacked out like this, both tired from a long day but still seeking contact. Armie idly traced his fingers in a complicated pattern on Timmy’s back, and Timmy sighed happily. After a while, the movie was forgotten as they kissed lazily, their hips moving slightly and their hands roaming. 

When Armie slid his hand under Timmy’s t-shirt and began to tug it up to take it off, Timmy wiggled away and pushed himself up on Armie’s chest. 

“Wait,” he said. 

“Something wrong?” Armie asked, a chill running down his spine. 

“No, not wrong, just…” He looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, as if he was trying to make a decision about something. After a moment, he shrugged. “Can I take you to bed?”

“Now?” Armie asked. He glanced at the clock on the wall, saw that it was barely ten. 

“Yeah, I...please?” Timmy, teeth sank into his lip, and Armie smiled. 

“Lead the way,” he said. 

In the bedroom, Timmy surged up and kissed Armie hard. Then he sprang back out of reach. “I’m nervous about something,” he confessed. 

“Oh?” Armie watched him carefully, afraid to move. 

“Yeah I have to...show you something. I thought it was a good idea and now I’m not sure what you’re going to think.” He hopped from foot to foot, and Armie couldn’t resist reaching out to brush his hands In a soothing motion from Timmy’s shoulders down to his wrists, which he squeezed once before releasing them. 

“Relax,” he said. You can tell me — or show me anything.”

He meant it, even though now _he_ was nervous, too. This didn’t sound like something related to Timmy wanting _out_ , so…

“Just tell me, baby,” he said.

“Okay. If you don’t like it, I can…I mean, I don’t have to—“

“ _Timmy._ ” Armie was about to lose his mind.

Timmy nodded and then took a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his head. Armie felt the first punch of desire he always felt when confronted with this man’s body, but then he noticed what was different. On Timmy’s left pec, just over his nipple, was a burst of color. 

_A tattoo._

It was fireworks, Armie realized. Long colorful lines with frizzled edges that burst from three centers. 

Armie raised his eyes to Timmy’s face, and saw his boyfriend looking at him hopefully. It was beautiful, but—

“You let someone else touch your skin?” Armie couldn’t eliminate the hurt from his tone, as his heart squeezed in disappointment. Since they’d gotten together, he’d done one more tattoo for Timmy: the constellation Phoenix on his right shoulder. He’d thought Timmy would always come to him if he wanted more. He knew it was irrational, but he desperately hated the thought of another artist’s hands on Timmy’s canvas. 

Timmy’s eyes went wide. “No,” he said. “No, it’s…”

He trailed off as Armie reached out and ran a hand over the new marks. 

“Wait a second,” Armie said. He’d seen Timmy two days ago, and this didn’t look like a two-day-old tattoo. This looked like…

“It’s fake?” he asked. 

Timmy nodded. “I would _never_ — Armie, believe me, I wouldn’t ask anyone else to actually do it. But I wanted this to be a surprise. Someone in my English Lit class is an artist, and we were talking, and she drew it, and I thought it would be a cool surprise so I got a transfer made. It came in today, that’s why I was late, I had to go back to the dorm first and…” he sighed. “Do you hate it?”

“No,” Armie said. “It’s gorgeous. It’s — a surprise? For me?”

“Yes. I was thinking that we met right before New Year’s, and those fireworks went off just as we decided we didn’t want to be a...a two night stand. _Boom_ , like that I knew what we felt about each other was real. And honestly, it’s always fireworks that I feel whenever you touch me, and so I wanted to mark that and if—“

Armie cut him off with a fierce kiss. When he pulled away, Timmy grinned. He took Armie’s hand and placed it on top of the fake tattoo, on top of his heart, which was beating rapidly. 

“See?” he whispered. “Fireworks.”

“And you want me to do the real thing?” he asked. 

“Will you?” Timmy asked in return. 

“Of course,” Armie said. “You know I will.”

Then Armie’s arms were full of Timmy as the kid jumped at him and wrapped limbs around his torso. Armie laughed and fell towards the bed, where they landed in a tangle. 

The next few minutes were a flurry of trying to kiss while simultaneously divesting themselves of clothes, locating lube and jockeying for position until Timmy was straddling Armie, sliding down onto him with a low moan. 

Armie let him set the pace, his thighs flexing with effort as he rose and fell, the warm glow of the bedside lamp flickering on his pale skin. Skin that Armie was going to get to draw on, _again_. He traced his fingers along the lines of the fake tattoo, making small adjustments in his head, a change of shape here, a sharper curve there, to better track the angles of Timmy’s body. 

As Timmy began to moan freely, Armie took him in hand, stroking until he was just on edge, and then pumped his hips upwards, hard. Timmy gasped and tensed, then groaned as he came, muscles squeezing until Armie followed behind. 

Timmy collapsed onto Armie’s chest. “Boom,” he whispered. 

They lay together, breathing harshly, for a few minutes. Armie ran his hands up and down Timmy’s back, knowing without a doubt that he never wanted to let this man go. He didn’t want to ever wake up without him again, or to have Timmy just visiting him. He wanted more. He wanted everything. When Timmy’s heart had slowed to a normal pace, Armie kissed his temple.

“Move in with me,” he murmured. “This summer, when you leave the dorm, don't go home. Move in here.”

“Okay,” Timmy slurred. “You sure you want me?”

Armie chuckled. “Boom,” he said. “Remember?”

Timmy hummed. “Can’t wait.”

Armie pulled the comforter over Timmy’s back and drifted off to sleep with a smile. 


End file.
